


War Paint

by cellard00rs



Series: The Bonded Series [4]
Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood, Demons, F/M, Gore, Horror, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Ariel Fulmer was once regarded as one of the best demon hunters in the world. Long since retired, she finds herself intrigued by the prospect of one last job.





	War Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around the first or second chapter of 'Skeptic', but you don't have to read that to understand this. Merely know that Shane is on the loose as a crazed void-demon and you'll be fine.

Even after all this time, all these years retired, she’s prepared.

Ariel Fulmer’s blue eyes snap open and everything in her gorgeous (self) decorated home feels…frozen. It takes her about two minutes to know what’s happening (she’s slowing, used to be it would’ve taken her only two _seconds_ , still).

She looks over at her husband Ned and it’s as if he’s frozen. He’s not, but time has…slowed. For him. Not her. Groaning, she tosses back her side of their fluffy white comforter and rises, bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. Hissing, she rubs at her bare arms, clad only in a tank top and PJ bottoms.

Not the kind of outfit she wants to be caught in by a Chrono Displacer and friends, but what is she supposed to do? Besides, they’re the ones who should feel out of place because They’re. Not. Supposed. To. Be. HERE.

Her thoughts are united on two fronts – Ned and Wes. Ned is fine, so she immediately goes into the nearby nursery to check on her son. Much like his father, Wesley’s sleeping peacefully, but caught in a web of slowed time. Taking the back of one hand she rubs at her infant son’s cheek. He’s okay, soft and sweet. Safe. And he’ll stay that way.

Eyes narrowed, she charges towards the big glass doors that lead out to her deck and, sure enough, there’s a small team from the Paranormal Protection Society. The Chrono Displacer – an elderly woman with that sweet grandma look – is gesticulating all of her fingers in a strange sort of dance – a soft amber glow encasing them, twining through each digit.

With her is a bored, dead-eyed looking teenager with far more piercings than necessary and a guy who looks like he sells used cars. She looks at all three of them and it’s easy enough to pick out who’s in charge. She moves straight to the teenager, “What’re you doing here?”

This gets her a sharp fanged smile, “Well, well, well - I’d heard your skills as a hunter had atrophied, VandeVoorde. Good to see you haven’t completely lost your touch.”

“It’s Fulmer now and I’m retired, demon. Underline that one - retired. I don’t hunt anymore. Not to mention that you’re only second in command. However, you’re all I can currently see, so – you want to come out?” Ariel announces loudly as she scans around, knowing there’s a fourth here, the one who really holds all the cards.

The demon, if anything, looks more impressed and draws back towards the older man, “You see that, Bill?”

“I did, kiddo. There’s a reason, Vande-er-Fulmer is considered one of the best.”

“Yeah…and don’t call me, ‘kiddo’, I’m _older_ than you.”

Ariel hears their little aside but could care less as a sound rumbles in the distance, like thunder rolling through clouds, and a tall, amazon of a woman appears. Ariel lets out a hefty groan, her head tipping back, “Fatima, I should’ve known…”

When the angel speaks, there’s a lovely lilt to her tone, “Always appreciate you calling me that, Ariel. So much better sounding that Fatimziel. The need to slide ‘z’s into angelic names has always been oh, so cumbersome. “

“Fati…” She starts and Fatima wags a finger at her, “Aw! And _there’s_ the nickname! You know me so well!”

“Yeah, well, you know me too and you know this isn’t cool,” she waves at all of them, “You’ve got your Chrono Displacer over there slowing time on my family, a hybrid and-and a _demon_ hanging out on my deck and you…I mean, I don’t _mind_ seeing you, but not like this!”

The angel gives her the most gorgeous pout, “Well how else am I supposed to secure time with you? I have no need for your Fig and Stone operation,” her eyes look over Ariel’s house, “Interior decorating? Really? Such a waste of your talents…”

“Hey! I have other talents past…y’know,” Ariel scratches behind her neck, looking sheepish, “Besides, we’ve known each other for years, Fati. I always said when I reached a certain age, I was going to give up the-!”

“The hunting game, yes, yes, you told me,” Fatima’s dark eyes look infinitely disappointed as she looks over the house again, “But for this? I thought Ned was just a mark! You were using him to get close to that target at the party! Not to ‘have and to hold’ and make babies with!”

“Yes, it might have started that way, but Ned…once I really got to know him, I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He’s so sweet and he just makes me feel-!” her words are cut off as the angel waves them away, “Please, please stop! You’ll make me horribly jealous if you keep it up! After all, I always dreamed that it would be me to sweep you off your feet!”

Ariel’s lips twitch, “Well, we’ll always have that weekend on Langkawi Island…”

This gets a saucy look, “Ah, yes, I shall never forget it, I assure you.”

“But you know you’re more suited to someone or something more your speed, Fati. Like that Ceffyl Dŵr you were seeing for a while? Or that Dryad-?”

“Okay, well, Abayomi is occupied with their own thing. Lovely, lovely creature, I had a great time with them, but long term? Mmm, no, they’re much too focused on their job. And as for Hespris, he is a dear, but not someone I see myself spending eternity with. No, no – you would’ve been the best choice of them, my darling, but I respect your decisions,” she gives the house another eyeballing, “Such as they are.”

Ariel can’t help but look over her home. What exactly is Fatima seeing? What’s wrong with it? But she shakes her head to herself and gets back to the topic at hand, “Look, you’re one of the only decent angels I’ve ever met and I really admire all the work you’ve done with the PPS and the help you gave me in the past, but if you’re here to ask me to do a job…”

Fatima cuts in with an ‘I am’ even as Ariel continues, “…I’m going to have to tell you no. I’ve got a mortal life now. A husband and child. Not to mention I’m in no condition to go out and hunt anything. I’ve lapsed in my training and in my-!”

“If you say ‘skill’ I will snap you in half,” Fatima argues with a stubborn smirk, “Maybe you’ve gone tame, but never soft. Your talents are innate, Ariel. It’s what made you one of the best, it’s what drew us together and made us friends, it’s why you’re the only one I’d trust with something of this magnitude.”

Ariel hates, hates, _hates_ how she’s too intrigued not to ask, “Which is?”

The smirk grows into a gloating smile and as much as Ariel considers this angel her friend, she really wants to punch her in the face, “There’s been an uprising in a cabal-”

“So? That’s nothing new. There are uprisings practically every other day,” Ariel bursts in but Fatima shushes her, “Let me finish! This uprising is quite unlike any other. The…attacking demon in question is not going directly to the top, not going right into wresting power from its leader. He’s wiping out his _entire_ cabal. Each and every one of them.”

This does give Ariel some pause because that’s not…the normal move. Normally when a demon (or demons) decides they want to change the infrastructure of their cabal, they go big or go home. They don’t squabble with taking out each and every card carrying member (as it were) they push through some major challenges, amass power, and then change the game.

But what Fatima’s describing isn’t changing the game – it’s knocking over the whole damn chess board. Tossing aside pieces whether they be pawns or kings. No checkmate, just…annihilation. It doesn’t make any sense. Why take out your entire cabal? What’s there to gain?

She finds herself drawn, despite knowing better. Old habits, die hard? That old adage’s proving its worth. She chews on a thumbnail thoughtfully, “Is he the one you’re-?”

Fatima waves her hands, “No, no, no. He’s not our concern. Our problem is that he’s not as through as he thinks. He recently hit a large cell of his cohorts and, in the process, one of them escaped,” her expression grows grave, “Escaped and turned feral.”

Feral demons are no joke. Ariel gets this. Still, “Okay, but…that doesn’t explain why you would need me. Feral demons, like uprisings, are a dime a dozen. You could take a team from PPS or you could even appeal to your brothers or sisters for-?”

Fatima scoffs, “You know how most angels are. We rarely intervene unless under father’s orders. Yes, sometimes we differ to an archangel or seraphim, but for the most part? We can’t be bothered,” she repeats the last in a way that says she’s heard that before and highly disagrees with it, “You know I’m one of the black sheep of the fam. Involving myself with mortal creatures platonically and romantically?”

She tosses her dark hair back and gives a throaty laugh, “Oh, the _shame_ of it.”

“But the PPS-!”

“Decided you should take point on this,” she says slowly, as if Ariel needs it said that way. Bitch. Ariel’s lips twitch as she fights off a smile, “You’ve got other hunters, Fati. Lots of ‘em.”

“We do. And none of them are as good as you and you know it.”

Ariel drags in a long, loud breathe through her nose, “How bad can this feral demon be?”

Fatima will no doubt take her curiosity as a victory. She’ll think Ariel is seriously considering…

“He’s turned two others. Corrupted them into feral too.”

“Shit.”

“The three of them are hiding out in the wilderness, but that won’t last. It never does. Eventually they’ll move towards more populated areas…” the angel doesn’t need to say more. Ariel knows the rest. It’s an old story. A classic one. Usually demons try to cut off their feral brethren before they can even come to the pass. They don’t want exposure anymore than any other supernatural creature does. But if they haven’t done anything thus far…

“What level?”

“All sevens.”

“Shit,” Ariel repeats this, but with more feeling. Three demons away from titles? Three _feral_ demons with that kind of power? Shame this guy didn’t do a better job. Leaving survivors? That’s just lazy. Not to mention it means missing out on amassing more power and is that his plan? Absorb as much demonic energy as possible?

Jesus. No wonder Fatima says it’s ‘not her concern’. The idea of a demon amassing energy until he’s past levels and titles? Yikes. Probably someone she would have been jazzed to hunt back in her heyday, but now? No, thank you. Wife and mother. Those two titles are far more prestige to her than top hunter.

And yet here she is…thinking.

Dammit.

“All from the same cabal?”

“No. Demon number one, Azramar – once known as Aaron – he’s the only member. The other two were old pals of his that he co-opted. Twisted. Tortured.”

“Fucked up thing to do…torture your friends.”

Fatima shrugs, “Feral.”

Ariel looks at her feet, kicks one of them out. Her feet are bare, toenails painted a sugary pink. She sways, walks around in a tiny circle. She thinks and thinks and absolutely hates herself. _Think of Ned. Think of Wes. Think of your life. Anyone can do this. Anyone at all. There are other hunters out there. They all went through the same rigmarole you did. They all survived. They’re still doing it even. They didn’t kick up their feet and retire. They go out and do it; day in, day out. They’re good._

But even retired…she knows the truth. Knows she’s better.

Fuck.

She stops in front of Fatima, arms crossed as she lifts her head, blue eyes cool, “What’ll you give me.”

It’s not a question because it doesn’t have to be and Fatima looks so goddamn pleased, “Blessings.”

“Like?”

The angel looks crafty, “Your child will take to toilet training quickly. He’ll sleep deeply and serenely more than most children his age. You and your husband will have financially stability for the next five years.”

“Seven.”

“Six.”

“Done,” Ariel exhales and it’s like a hole’s been punched through her chest. God, what has she just agreed to? She pushes some stray blonde hairs behind one ear as she turns to the demon, “Take it you’re my supplier?”

The kid’s eyes twinkle, “Man, you really are on top of it, ain’tcha?”

Her hands move to rest on her hips, “Didn’t catch your name, demon.”

“Folks call me Nix.”

“Well Nix, you might be older than me, but I know the drill. No way you’re having me go out in the field empty handed. Not much good if I am. And it’s not like I have any of my old equipment.”

“Oh no?” Nix looks crafty as he reaches behind him to remove a ratty backpack he has on. Clearly, it’s enchanted with an interdimensional pocket and from it he draws out a belt with two leather pouches on either side of it. The leather is dark brown and slightly cracked from wear. Still perfectly useable though, and her eyes widen at the sight of it, fingers trembling as she reaches for something she can’t help but consider an old friend, “How did you-?”

“Better to ask her,” his eyes dart to Fatima and she gives a one shoulder shrug, “You know us angels. Our powers are vast.”

“I tossed this…”

“I know. Took it to W&W for disposal and I nicked it before they could. That’s a keepsake, Ariel. You don’t just toss a keepsake,” Fatima moves closer, eyes zeroed in on her friend’s left hand, “Or at least, not all of them.”

Ariel knows exactly what Fatima’s gaze is locked on. Sighing she puts the satchels over one shoulder before reaching for her wedding ring, gently twisting it from side to side. Once removed she merely has to think of its true nature for it to be revealed. Her endless weapon. As if she could ever part from it, “I love Ned. More than anything. I just…I blended them. The ring he gave me. The weapon. You know it’s capable of absorbing other metals. Well,” she can’t help but grin, eyes rolling, “It is if you know what you’re doing…”

“Which you do,” Fatima says approvingly and Nix is starstruck, “Man, I didn’t even sense it.”

The grin becomes a more biting, “That’s the point.”

Nix looks back at Bill, “Fuck. Glad _you’re_ the one who has to deal with her.”

“Oh? Are we done?”

Nix nods, “Your satchels are still loaded with all your old gear. I took an inventory. Carefully, I might add. Lots of lethal shit in there for my kind. But, hell, knew what I was getting into when I signed up with PPS. Can’t have some dipshits outing the rest of us, y’know? Anyway, you’ve got everything you could need. Mean, I made sure some of ‘em got tweaks – there’s been a few improvements since you were doing your thing – but not much. You have some high quality gear.”

“Had,” she corrects but as she returns her weapon to a ring and slides it back on, she can’t help but think of the weight on one of her shoulders. Her satchels. Her gear. Christ…she missed them more than she thought. More than she should have. She looks to Bill, “Take it you’re my jockey?”

He gives a cut nod, “Yes, ma’am.”

She turns back to Fatima, “You know, you could take me. Lend a hand.”

A soft sigh, “You know I can’t. I wish I could. Truly, but,” she holds up her hands, “my wings are tied.”

Ariel’s heard this before and can feel her lips twist, torn as she is between amusement and annoyance. She gets it, she does. Fatima’s work with the Paranormal Protection Society is strictly monitored by her brethren. She’s only allowed to interfere so much. The wills and laws of angels, the lack of true free will. Demons suffer from it too. Honestly, it’s all really just bureaucracy and red tape bullshit, but she gets it.

If Fatima were truly to lend a hand, even a true touch of her power, to the situation without the express approval of her legion? Well, she wouldn’t be the first angel to fall. And falling is…hard. She can only think of a handful of fallen who _haven’t_ turned demon and god knows, that’s the last thing she wants to happen to her friend.

Her attention turns to the Chrono Displacer and Fatima assures her, “Don’t worry, Loretta is one of the best. She’ll keep both Ned and little Wesley comfortable until your return.”

“ _If_ I return…”

“Oh please! We both know you’ll be back,” the angel turns about where she stands, “And I’ll have a sense of you. If I truly feel you can’t handle it, I’ll intervene.”

“Hey, you just said-!”

“Ariel,” Fatima intones, not meeting her eyes, “If have to…if there’s no other choice. I _will_ intervene.”

They haven’t spoken in years. Ariel hasn’t even had the decency to think of her in that time. And yet here Fatima is, saying she’ll lose her wings to save Ariel if she has to. The lump that forms in her throat is thick, a tight ball she does her best to swallow away, “Shouldn’t be necessary.”

Fatima laughs brightly, “Of that I have no doubt.”

Ariel bobs her head, “Okay, um…well, let me just go get changed…”

“Darling, honestly,” Fatima scoffs and, with a quick hand motion, Ariel finds herself clothed. Sturdy hiking boots, jeans, a black tank top and military jacket. She can even feel thick socks and, ah, other undergarments on. Fatima truly thinks of everything. And, touching her hair, which is now in a braid she can’t help but chuckle. Wow. Everything.

“Got it all right?”

“Yup,” Ariel agrees, tugging the end of her braid, “Even the hair.”

“I have an eye for these things. I remember how you used to dress on these occasions.”

“Obviously.” The two share a knowing look, smiling even as Bill coughs, “Um, shouldn’t we-?”

“Right, right,” Ariel looks back at her house. She should go inside. She should kiss Ned and Wesley goodbye. No, no – not goodbye. Fuck. She should just back out. There’s no shame in that, right? Backing out, even last minute? Not if it’s to protect her family…

…but what of other families? Other innocents. Not one, but three feral demons roaming about, edging ever closer to society, to revealing everything…

Dammit.

She looks back to Bill and clips her belt around her waist, satchels firmly in place, “Let’s roll.”

 

+

 

Ariel steps through the crackling portal to find herself in a densely wooded forest. The terrain is uneven – mountainous – and the trees around her rise so far up as if to challenge the heavens themselves. The air is cool, the sky dark, albeit studded with the diamonds of thousands of stars. A far cry from Los Angeles, that’s for sure. Wind whispers through the leaves and insects call to one another as she sighs and gets her bearings, “Montana?”

Bill, who stepped in the portal behind her and is currently closing it, nods, “Yes, ma’am.”

Shaking her head to herself she reaches into one of her satchels and with a thought draws out a light orb. It glows a whitish green and hovers behind her right shoulder as she walks up to one of the trees. She picks at the bark then bends down to inspect the earth around it. In a crouch she looks around, breathes in and narrows her eyes, “You said Montana, but…there’s something else…”

“Oh?”

She looks over her shoulder at him, “It’s been awhile and I’m not a jockey, but I’ve still got a handle on my geography, “ she stands up, wiping her hands off on one another, “We’re right on the line between two states. Montana and Idaho. Pretty sure we’re not in Kootenai and this _definitely_ isn’t the Panhandle…”

She turns around in a small circle, eyes cast upwards, “Considering how derivative demons are – it’s more likely this is Bitterroot,” her upper lip curls in amused distaste, “Even feral, demons love their word play. It’s why so many of them flock to the Black Hills or Sawtooth.”

“ _Hoo-weee_ ,” Bill laughs and tugs on his tie, “You _sure_ you retired?”

“Eh, some things you never forget,” she looks to him, “Wait until I go to fight. Probably rusty there.”

“For your sake, I hope not,” he offers charitably and then reaches into his pocket to draw out a small pager, “For you.”

She takes it with raised eyebrows, “A beeper?”

“Hey! They’re making a comeback!”

She taps it against one palm, “Take it you want me to use this when I’m ready to go?”

Another nod, “I know how you guys work. I don’t need to stick around to see it. Besides, my understanding’s always been y’all do better on your own.”

“Yeah,” Ariel draws the word out, thinks of Ned. She’s never alone when she’s with him, with the Try Guys, with her son. It’s why she tossed this life over to begin with. It’s…lonely. Solitary. Sure, the thrill was fun in her late teens, her early twenties – but now? Now she’s more than happy to shop flea markets and take it easy.

Still, she made this decision and she has to follow it through. Those blessings Fatima offered will be a good boon (especially the toilet training one) and it’s not like she can let three feral demons sweep through not one, but _two_ states. Yeah, Clean Up and PPS would cover it up, keep things nice and tidy so the mortal world doesn’t know the truth – god knows it’s happened before.

‘Hurricanes’ and ‘mass shootings’ and ‘horrific traffic accidents’…it’s not like these things _don’t_ happen. It’s not as if weather phenomenon and humanity in general aren’t responsible for their own brand of tragedy, but there are sometimes when the supernatural community is responsible and uses these sort of headlines as their covers.

After all, it’s easier for the general populace to accept that some people were pulled under into a tide pool and drowned than that a Nuckelavee was running rampant along the coast. So, yeah, if these demons wrecked some havoc they would eventually get taken down and their victims would be nicely covered with some false story about a wild killer on the loose or something but, well, since she’s here…

Since she’s here, she can make sure that doesn’t happen. She can end it here, in this forest, in the dead of the night. The secret savior. Not the first time she’s taken the role, but hopefully the last.  She tucks the pager into one of the satchels and signals to Bill that he can take off. Which he does. Happily. Jockeys…

Shaking her head she tries to decide her best plan of attack. She looks to the orb, “Any ideas?”

It doesn’t answer. Not that she expect it would; but asking still makes her grin. Orbs – the ever steady companion in situations like this. Unsurprisingly, most hunts take place at night, so she’s seen a few Orbs in her time. Sighing, she reaches into one satchel to see if she can summon up information on her assigned targets. No way Fatima didn’t include some kind of dossier in her inventory.

The first satchel provides nothing, but the second produces a holodisk. Ah, a holodisk! The W&W department still has yet to let this baby hit the human market. They’re getting closer everyday – what with VR equipment, the advancement in cell phones…but technology can be its own problem.

Yes, it helps fund the supernatural world, but the more tech the mortals get, the harder W&W has to work to make sure they can’t use it in some way to provide true exposure. Great example – there’s no true footage of ghosts, even in this day and age of ‘advanced, modern technology’. Well, yeah, _duh_ – if your advanced, modern technology is _made_ and engineered by the W&W department, it’s going to have fail safes within it to make producing such proof impossible.

But since no mortal person can fathom the idea that their iPhone might have been tinkered with by a ghoul, they just decide that ghosts don’t exist. Simple. Efficient. Kinda sad, really. Ariel taps a couple of buttons and places the holodisk on her palm. It illuminates and projects a three dimensional hologram with three faces on it.

Three men – all looking like college dude-bros. Wonderful. She taps on the center face, sensing that that’s the instigator and sure enough, he’s Azramar. Hmm, his cabal name’s been redacted. Strange, but Fatima had said the whole cabal uprising was not her concern. Still, the fact they felt the need to keep it such a secret ignites her old desire to dig for more.

She huffs out. Ariel never was very good at impulse control. Look at Ned. Initially he’d been just what Fatima said – a mark. But he was so attractive, so sincere and sweet, she just…she’d _wanted_ him. So she made up her mind to have him and Ariel VandeVoorde always got what she wanted. Hell, she’s Ariel Fulmer now and she’s _still_ gets what she wants.

But digging into the cabal isn’t something she should want. This is a one time job. She’s not making this a mission. She’s done that before and it gets…messy. Her life isn’t about mess anymore. It’s about order, it’s about control. She’ll leave mess and insanity to Ned and his friends. The Try Guys…the shit they do…it was another attraction factor.

Sure, Ned hadn’t gotten mixed up with those other knuckleheads when they’d first met, but she’d sensed it in him. His willingness to try and do crazy things, his lust for life. It was one of the many things that had attracted her to him in the first place. That similarity.

Not that he knew it.

To him, she probably came across as mild mannered. That was, after all, the persona she’d originally sold him. The girl next door, the calm in the storm. That’s what had drawn him, while she’d been drawn to the recognition that he was like her. Capable of open-minded extremes. And yes, his extremes are labor pain simulation and trying roller derby – not hunting demons and other supernatural dangers – but the spirit’s there.

Hell, for all she knows, he senses it too. An unspoken link between them – the courage, the desire to live life to the fullest. Even if there’s risk, even if it’s insanity and Christ, _this_ is insane. She should be asleep right now. Instead…

Azramar, Kozdaan, and Thoked. She looks at their statistics. Kills they made in the past, former identities, proclivities – anything that might give her an edge. They’re all pretty run of the mill. Nothing sticks out as unique or extraordinary. Nothing signals to particular weaknesses she can exploit. Looks like a standard draw and eliminate job. Wonderful.

But while the thought is sarcastic, she can’t help but think it’s just that. Wonderful. Because this should be easy. Simple. Honestly, they really could have gotten any hunter to do this. But then, they _are_ feral now…and it’s not like she has any clues about that. Mainly because you can’t. Once a demon goes feral, it’s usually rounded up and sent to the Pit or – better – has already been remanded _to_ the Pit before coming topside.

Feral demons _do_ serve their purpose. If they’re not completely irrational, they can be used for the more vicious and violent tortures of damned souls. Great example? William Vahey, a well known child molester, is known to be spending his eternity with a pack of them. A well deserved punishment for both. The ferals can’t leave and Vahey gets his due. But neither can be studied. Hell, no one _wants_ to study them.

They just lump those kinds of monsters together and let nature take its course, so, that in mind – ferals are, for the most part, an unexplored commodity. If they’re not smited, they’re locked away to serve the one and only purpose they _can_ serve. So, yeah, facing off against three ferals means she’s stepping into dicey, unknown territory. But she can handle it.

She’s taken down ferals before. Not three at once, but…

Ariel tucks the holodisk back in one of the satchels and summons up her next important piece of equipment. A small bracelet appears, a clear crystal in its center. A vessel to collect smited demonic energy. She can’t absorb it herself – being human and all. No levels for this gal. No, the crystal in the bracelet will draw the energy forth – gather it, so it can be properly disposed of.

Slipping the bracelet on, it tightens around her wrist until it’s firmly locked in place. An easy enchant, but an effective one. Wouldn’t do for her to lose something so important. That settled, Ariel carefully picks her way through the forest, stepping over mossy logs, twigs and dry grass. She moves about a quarter mile into the forest before she finds a good spot. The ground is mostly flat, undisturbed, and the trees are spaced far enough apart to give her room to work.

An excellent clearing.

She gathers materials for a good bonfire and gets that going with various tools from her satchels. Once the fire is roaring at a decent peak, she starts carefully undressing. The air has a chill that bites at her skin, but she knows this is her best course of action. She has to draw the beasts out.

She folds each article she removes. Jacket, tank, bra…as she disrobes, she contemplates her old fashion choices. Buffy Summers meets Tomb Raider meets Katiness Everdeen…although, to be fair, she predates them. Funny though, how she unlocked the best look for these endeavors. Naked, she reaches into the satchel to find a patterned blanket, one she tosses out to rest herself on. No way is she sitting on the bare earth.

True, it connects her closer to nature – would probably be a better draw and give more strength to her summons, but yeah – dirty leaves and sticks poking at her ass? No, thank you. She sits cross legged on the blanket, satchels between her legs as she digs around in each, looking for various equipment. She draws from each – one has a silver dagger, another powders and salts expertly mixed for use in demonic rituals, various crystals and artifacts – she places each where they need to be, each where they’ll garner the most power, be the most enticing. 

The last thing she draws from one of the satchels is what looks like a simple makeup compact. And, in a way, it is. It contains something she likes to think of as war paint. She pops the lid open and carefully dips her fingers in, coating them with the thick substance inside. It looks black, but as she spreads it over her skin it changes colors, the hues and glow different based upon where it’s applied.

The bridge of her nose, her cheeks – these streaks bleed red. But as she brushes at her shoulders, she’s greeted with a glittering gold. Blue coats her breasts, green her stomach, fiery orange and subtle purples on her limbs. She closes the lid on the compact and puts it away before grabbing the knife. Ariel winces – she always hates this part, but she especially hates it now.

It’s been a long time since she’s had to do this. Still, the point of the knife is fantastically sharp and the cuts need only be superficial. Taking a steading breath, she carefully nicks at her temple, her wrists, above the tips of her breasts, her belly button and ankles. Each fresh cut stings a little more than the last, but again, each is necessary.

Blood, fire, earth – all good draws. Next come the powders, the salts – she tosses them about liberally – on the ground, into the bonfire, into the air. Their subtle scents are a mixed bag – some pleasant, others abhorrent  – but all more draws, more lines cast into the water. Finally she turns her palms up and open on her knees, eyes closing as she starts speaking in demoniac. There are different dialects, but she goes for the most straight forward one, the one she remembers best.

She’s sure it comes across as rusty. After all – this isn’t a dead language so much as one not used on this plane – and it’s hard enough as it is to pronounce the words with a human tongue. But she still does her best, intoning the names of the demons she’s trying to summon again and again: _Azramar, Kozdaan, Thoked_.

Ariel entreats them to come forth, to share their blessings (ha!), to commune with her. Not all demons are dumb, but the vast majority _are_ vain. Calling out to them, using their names in repetition, offering up flattery – usually they can’t resist. Usually. She’s even seen poor summonings (some actually performed by high school or college students who didn’t know any better) work because the demon in question couldn’t resist making an appearance once their name was spoken.

But after about fifteen minutes of nothing, Ariel can’t help but feel like these guys are going to be a no show. Strange, but not completely unheard of. Some demons are too smart. Or, more likely in this case, too insensate to come. Ferals aren’t known for having all their ducks in a row. Could be they don’t even recognize these names as their own anymore.

Sighing, she wipes away the markings, the spilled blood. She rises to her feet and happily changes back into her clothing. She’s fought naked before. Some summonings just lead into that sort of thing – so, she _can_ do it, but, obviously – it’s not a fun way to go about it. Very low on her list of favorite fights.

Her whole body feels frosty, eager for cover and warmth. Once dressed, she starts packing away the rest of her gear when she hears it. It’s very, very soft –  very faint –  but it’s there. The hush, the whisper, of leather wings.

Ariel freezes for a split second, curses herself for even that, as she goes about her business as if she noticed nothing. But she _did_ notice. And one of the demons, the one watching her, might have sensed that. Sloppy. Dammit. But what did Fatima expect? Retired, remember?

Acknowledging a demon is nearby when you’re in the process of summoning one? Yeah, big no, no. Yes, the whole point of a summoning is to draw a demon out, but the demon needs to feel like they have the upper hand. They have to feel like – even though you’re the one who offered the olive branch – that you’re too stupid to know what you’re getting yourself into.

Show even the slightest sign of awareness and they’ll do one of two things. Flee or kill. So much like the human inclination to fight or flight, save that the fight part is far more extreme and more often than not, the one they chose. After all, killing provides a soul, doesn’t it? A nice snack or bargaining chip or…fuck, whatever they want to do with it, and Ariel will be keeping her soul, thanks.

But whichever of the three she’s drawn doesn’t do either. Instead it…watches. Ariel can feel it; but makes sure to not react again. No, she instead finishes packing up, puts out the fire and then continues her trek, with her orb following. She picks her way through the trees, hops over tiny streams, and acts as if she’s not being dogged with every step she takes.

It’s there though. One of the ferals. It moves all around her, circles her. It’s using a wide radius, but even after all these years off the job, she can sense it. That hint in the air that says she’s not alone, that she’s being watched. The slight hush in sound, in the atmosphere, the shifting smells on the wind. It’s growing impatient, hungry; but Ariel knows how this dance is done.

Like riding a bicycle, it’s a skill she’ll carry with her to her grave. She made the first move, the second is all up to the demon. It’s not until she’s hiked about a mile away from the bonfire site when it attacks. She’s carefully navigating her way over a huge fallen tree when an eerie wail hits the air.

“Shit,” she hisses and (oh, great – _of course_ this is when one of her goddamn shoelaces would get snagged) she struggles with her situation as something rushes towards her. The whole forest feels all alive at once. Overwhelmingly wild. Whatever is coming towards her, it’s big, but fast, and the sound of crashing is paramount as her shouts grow more frantic, “Shit, shit, _shit_!”

Ariel barely manages to make it to the other side when the demon reveals itself. The orb flares brighter, illuminating the monstrosity she’s facing. She can’t be sure which demon this is, but there’s no question its feral. It’s sprouted extra horns – horns that are twisted, chipped, and curled in bizarre directions all over its body. It’s grown extra eyes all over its face, not to mention the _mouths_. Distorted jaws with jagged teeth emerge from the creature’s arms, it’s thighs – right above it’s curved, sagging potbelly (which _also_ has a mouth).

An extra limb has formed back between its shoulder blades – something like a second tail. It’s thick and clubbed – spikes protruding all over it and this is what swipes out at her, this is what she barely manages to dodge. Instead the tail impacts with the tree, reducing it to splinters.

Ariel ungracefully rolls away from the attack, but better ungraceful than hit. She flicks out her left hand hard and her wedding ring unravels, the endless weapon forming into her hand to form a large blade. The second tail makes another swipe at her and she answers with the knife, barely grazing it. Still, the demon is enraged at the mild touch, the bite of its edge. It thunders forward, excess jaws snapping with a discordant din.

Ariel dodges, feigns, thanks god she’s continued to exercise regularly albeit not to the extent she used to. Regardless, being in shape has its benefits as each of its attacks fails to strike. It’s clearly growing more incensed the longer the fight takes. It expected an easy kill. Ariel won’t give it the satisfaction.

Instead she picks it apart piece by piece. She glides around it, circles back again – peppering it all over with expert slices until the last is delivered as she glides right beneath it – in between its legs, as a matter of fact, her weapon taking a good, deep slice along its underside.

Right where it’s dick used to be. Or maybe still is. Hard to tell once a demon’s _this_ deformed. Either way, it lets out a fantastic bellow of agony at the hit and while _that’s_ satisfying, she knows she needs to quit horsing around. The center. That’s where its energy is housed. Much like the human heart, but more directly focused – once that’s taken, he’ll snap and, smited, flow into her bracelet.

This in mind, she lets out something of a battle cry, charging right towards him. He obviously didn’t expect a little human (much less a female one) to act so recklessly and barely manages to get one arm up before she plunges the weapon down. It burns on impact, the material of the blade made to do so. A nasty sizzle fills the air, a stomach-lurching scent as it burns right through the flesh, through the _bone_.

The feral demon lets out another peal of high pitched fury, but Ariel is undeterred, she merely withdraws an inch before riposting - stronger, faster, deadlier. The blade renders the defending limb, allowing it to drop to the ground with a sickening thud as she arches upwards the tip grazing along the demon’s chest. Yes! One more strike, up high and down, straight and true – and this one will be put to bed!

This is her last thought before something coils around her waist, whips her backwards with massive force. She sails through the air like a ragdoll, the breath is punched hard out of her lungs as her body rolls over itself when she hits the unforgiving forest floor.

Once her tumble ends, she scowls, the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. _Stupid_ , _Ariel_! her thoughts cry, _stupid, stupid, stupid! Too goddamn slow! Too goddam dumb! They were teaming up to draw you out, you stupid bitc-!_

Her recriminations end sharply as the demon that threw her aside so violently, roars, revealing itself. It was clearly hidden to one side in the shadows – watching her interactions with its companion. Her head feels like it’s going to split open as the demon ‘speaks’, “Strong little thing. Attacking Thoked. Hurting him. But now you face more. Kozdaan.”

It drags on its name. And she winces, pained grunts leaving her because she needs Kozdaan out of her mind _now_. The longer he stays, the more likely he’ll try to use influence on her. She knows how to avoid such tactics, she has the mental discipline for it – but again, it’s been some time since she’s had to put that skill to use. Better not to test it.

Instead she struggles with the satchel to her right, praying to god it has what she needs and, sure enough – it produces a salt bomb. She lugs it at them and, much to her shock, it strikes home – hitting Thoked right on the top of his head. It bursts and it’s a particularly gruesome scene. Bits of skull and brains go flying and the feral flails about – not quite dead, but certainly on its way.

Huh. She tossed that one out for luck. As a distraction. It’s always nice when shit accidently comes together. Painfully getting to her feet, she makes sure her grip on her endless weapon is still good. The knife served its purpose, but she needs something a bit sleeker to finish this off.

A holy water pistol would be good in a situation like this, but Ariel’s never been a fan. Guns…too easy. Anyone can pull a trigger – anyone can kill with a bullet. It takes a real hunter, with real talent, to finish off something like this hand to hand.

After all, if you’re going to kill – you should _kill_. You should get up in the face of your opponent. You should use your own strength, your cunning. You should have the balls to plunge a knife into their chest or beat their brains in or just – just get up in there and _do it_. Ariel feels the old thrill, the rush of the hunt, and she can’t help the wild smile that takes her. All bright eyes and brilliant white (albeit bloodstained) teeth as her weapon finishes reforming itself, turning into a deadly looking axe.

One she wields up high with another cry as she charges forward. Kozdaan, still reacting to her uncoordinated hit on Thoked, is unprepared for her mad dash towards them. So much so that she actually uses his body as something of a spring board, one heeled boot finding purchased on him as she propels herself up and high, axe coming down without mercy on Thoked’s already wrecked head.

The axe slices cleanly through the leftover meat and bone. It sails down, a hot knife through butter, peeling its way towards Thoked’s core until a snap rings out. The feral demon dissolves into energy. Energy which zips stealthy into Ariel’s bracelet. Kozdaan lets out what she is quite certain is a lament for its companion before it turns its full attention on to her.

In the initial chaos, Ariel hadn’t had a chance to take in Kozdaan. Much like Thoked, he’s an eldritch monstrosity. A large gapping maw runs vertically down its body, from the hollow of its throat to between its legs – like an upright Venus fly trap. Nasty teeth gnash open and closed as slimy, muscular coils emerge from its core, clearly external intestine that writhe in midair. One of these must have wrapped around her earlier when she was knocked back from Thoked and, in fact, some zip out for her now.

She manages to avoid the first few, but eventually is snagged. Her wrists, her ankles – they’re captured and she’s dragged forcefully backwards towards the demon. Its face is reminiscent of a bat’s – which is fitting considering it has a series of wings behind its back. Wings that push downwards before propelling itself upwards and oh _fuck_! She’s off the ground!

The demon rises higher and higher, drawing her up into the sky with it. They soar miles above the ground and even as it ascends, its coils draw upwards closer to its form, to its gaping center. It’s going to wrap around her – consume her whole – unless she thinks fast!

Ariel is not going to go down as an in-flight snack! She’s also not going to be trapped in some sort of hentai situation…although she’s not sure if she’s got that right. Much like her conversation with Becky – where she learned what ‘spilling the tea’ meant, she’s unclear about certain things, and the whole hentai phenomena is one of them.

All she knows for sure is, she once caught Zach looking at something on his laptop with that word and tentacles on it and it was…ah, _suggestive_ \- and he swore her to secrecy. Which she had no problem giving because… yeah, that’s an image she’s still trying to wipe from her brain and again, fast thinking is kind of key here, so…

Ariel struggles to bring her arms down, her legs, to pull herself out of Kozdaan’s grip. But escaping this way is impossible, its grip rigidly tight as she’s slowly being winched up towards her doom. She still has a firm grip on her axe, but she can’t use it from this angle. Only one choice left then.

She swings herself around until she’s turned completely, until it appears as if she’s almost acquiescing herself to her fate. She’s face first with its mouth, the coils drawing her up faster now as she turns the axe in her grip – makes it smaller, smaller, makes it pill sized so she can close her fist around it and yes, as she thought, the coils have become laxer – the demon obviously dumb enough to think she’s given up.

It’s loosened enough now that she can bring her wrist up closer to her face and, with but a thought, the Endless Weapon melts around her fist, becomes a glove that she shoots upwards – punching the nasty thing right in its squirming gullet.

Clearly not expecting this kind of move, Kozdaan’s cry is wild and high pitched. It’s also two fold – both audible and psychic, making Ariel’s eyes screw up tight, as she answers with her own anguished shout. The pain! It seers brightly through her mind - her eardrums ringing even as the coils around her release. Release only to allow her to plummet downwards, to fall gracelessly towards the earth.

Wind rushes all around her, adrenaline pulsing madly as she freefalls and Kozdaan wasn’t smited, merely stunned by pain, so she has to think even faster now. Either the fall or the demon will lead to her doom if she doesn’t pull it together, so she does – reshaping the Endless Weapon from a glove to a grappling hook gun – one she doesn’t even hesitate to fire in Kozdaan’s direction.

It’s a risky move – one that counts on a lot of luck. After all, accuracy is sort of a crapshoot when you’re forced into skydiving, but hey, she got lucky once tonight, right? Besides, what choice does she have? The hook shoots upwards, the cord attached to it wrapping itself beautifully around Kozdaan’s neck, digging deep as another verbal and mental cry ring out.

Steam emerges from the contact, the Endless Weapon’s natural materials burning the creature even as Ariel pushes the button to make the cord retract, to pull her up. Ariel doesn’t react to the cry this time – too focused –  as she uses all of her body weight to swings herself upwards, to propel herself like a child on a swing set – momentum working to her advantage and it’s like something out of a well-choreographed action film.

She rises up and over the demon – as if she’s capable of flight herself – and lands right on its’ back. She changes the weapon again, taking it from a grappling hook to lance – one which she sinks directly through Kozdaan’s skull. The next cry lost beneath her own – hers of triumph – as she directs the demon down, down, down.

It’s as if she’s windsurfing – the demon beneath her, her board. One she ushers with near effortless skill back towards the forest. But life isn’t an action movie and nothing is perfect, and as they approach landfall Kozdaan hits several trees, nearly dislodging her. Ariel grits her teeth – various debris whipping at her face, her limbs, as she continues their nosedive towards the ground and the lance tips down harder, farther, digging through skull, edging downwards and she can feel it expanding, twisting.

The Endless Weapon can change into a wild variety of things, but at the end of the day, it has only one true purpose and – as if having a mind of its own – it seeks that purpose out. It seeks out the demon’s energy and a hellish snap signals it’s found it. Kozdaan’s form breaks beneath her – white light whispering around her feet and for a split second it looks legendary – as if she’s stepping off from the demon and directly on to the ground.

A cinematically picture perfect scene.

For a second.

But then all the force and momentum catches up with her and she’s very much tumbling ass over feet. Ariel rolls and rolls, mentally cursing a blue streak, even as the smited energy finds its home in her bracelet. Once she finally stops – she moans. Fuck…she thought what happened earlier hurt? This is a new kind of hurt.

She’s scrapped, bruised, gashed…all her limbs _seem_ okay, but she can’t be certain, because she’s lying on her stomach – her whole body one throbbing nerve. Suffering. Pain. She does not miss this part at all. Moaning, she rolls over. She coughs and whimpers and groans. Fuck. Christ. She’s coated in blood, dirt, sweat – she _aches_.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she moves. She carefully moves until she’s curled into an upright position. She reaches for one of her satchels – hands trembling an insane amount as she pulls out a med kit. It fires up and gives her a run time as to how long it’ll take to heal her. Normally the kit offers music, but she knows she can make requests if it fits within the timeframe of healing, so she merely croaks, “Ned…”

The med kit chirps, “You have requested ‘Ned’. According to our scans, this would be for (the voice grows more robotic) NED. FULMER (the voice becomes less robotic) Would you like to listen to one of the Try Guys videos?”

She doesn’t nod, just manages, “Home…”

“Ned and Ariel’s New House Tour confirmed. Reminder to keep any eyes and/or mouths closed during this procedure.”

The box starts vibrating like mad as Ariel carefully sets it down in front of her. A rainbow of colorful lights shoot out, rain all over her as she hears Ned’s soft, ‘ _We got the hoooooooooouse_!’ and smiles to herself. She listens to him – to Ned. She can hear herself as well, but she zooms in on his voice, on its comfort, as the med kit slowly does its job. With each passing second, she feels better and better – healed – as the video softly plays.

God, what had she been thinking? The adrenaline and sheer exhilaration of her thus far successful hunt has been lost beneath a wash of self-realization. This is _madness_. She could have just died. She’s been lucky, damn lucky. But luck can only carry you so far. She hears Ned speaking and wants to weep. This is a betrayal, isn’t it? Leaving him in the night like this and to what? Have some last hurrah?

The blessings – she knows that’s not what really drew her out here. Even the prospect of protecting others…that wasn’t what had really sold her. No. It’d been her own pride, her own ego, her need to…to what? Be more than just a wife and mother? To show herself she can still-? It’s all so stupid. Reckless. _Oh, Ned_ …

His voice is so soft and soothing and she feels something slip over her – deep inside – like a feather gliding along bone and shit, she probably _did_ break something. It would explain the long heal time. She’d listened to the med kit’s analysis with only half an ear, lost as she was beneath the sheer hurt and euphoria of her actions, the world’s oddest cocktail of emotions.

 _You’ve done enough_ , she thinks, _you smited two of them. Two ferals are gone – only one is left. Someone else can do it. Someone else can finish this job. You proved to yourself whatever the hell it is you wanted to prove. That you still got it or that you can do more than just be average – you’ve done it, Ariel. Time to go home._

She’d nod to herself if she wasn’t worried about disrupting the kit’s work. Her thoughts are right. She should go home. She doesn’t need blessings. She doesn’t need validation. She needs her husband, her son. She needs to fully embrace being Ariel Fulmer. This part of her life is over. Done. The final chapter finished, this epilogue complete. Book closed.

Ariel’s moments from being fully healed, from reaching into her satchel and drawing out the beeper to signal her jockey when her luck runs out. A discordant roar washes over, followed by a wild smash – an impact to the earth in front of her. She feels the ground quake beneath her whole body, jostling it as her eyes snap open – wide and alarmed.

The last feral demon. Azramar. He looks more composed than his fellows. Less of an ‘it’. He’s a more classic demon, like the creature from the Night on Bald Mountain – gargoyle huge wings – multiple horns curving from his bald scalp – glowing yellow eyes and long, curved talons instead of simple claws. His jaw hangs low though, lower than a jaw should – with jagged, needle like teeth that drip with saliva.

Much like Kozdaan he has a mental acuity that allows him to force a terrible pounding within her skull. Not influence, so much as a punishment. She feels disoriented, sick, her stomach rolls and heaves but she doesn’t vomit – instead crying out and pitching forward – arms wrapping around herself, squeezing, as the med kit tumbles away from her before it’s completed its task.

She’s basically fully healed, but she’s still weak. Vulnerable. A sitting duck. Azramar draws something out that suspiciously looks like a barbed whip and goddamn it…this is not a good position to be in. Not at all. She finds her mind shifting to Ned and Wesley again. Jesus…she just left them. In the night. In the dark. What will happen when she doesn’t come back? Why had she been so stupid? So…?

Her thoughts cut off as Azramar sends another bolt of pure agony through her mind. Fuck, is he flaying it? Flaying her mind like he plans on flaying her flesh and her fingers claw through her hair, dig into her scalp, because no, no – she can’t go down like this, she can’t die like this. Ned. Wes. Her family. Clenching her teeth, she surges to her feet. She won’t back down. Knocked off her feet – she’ll always rise back up, because this isn’t how her story ends.

The book on her past as a hunter might finally be closed, but there’s a whole new tale to be told and that’s the one with her family. Her family. Ned. Wes. She fights for them, finds strength for them - from them - even as she wavers slightly.

Weak? Yes.

Troubled? Totally.

But she won’t give up, she won’t.

Azramar apparently didn’t expect this kind of defiant resilience, but clearly appreciates it – a derisive, dark laughter filling the air around them. Makes sense. A worthy opponent is much better than a simple lamb to slaughter. Ariel raises her hands, balls them into fists. The Endless Weapon was knocked from her during the fall – she has other weapons at her disposal, but her mind doesn’t come to them. No, they come to her own strength, her own body. She won’t go without a fight. She won’t make this easy. Even as torn up as she is, she’ll preserve. And, fuck it, she’ll win. For her family. These determined thoughts in mind, she’s prepared to face him – come hell or high water, when an eerie howl sounds.

The howl…it came from…above them? All…? All _around_ them?

Ariel has no clue and, surprisingly, neither does Azramar. The feral demon actually reacts – actually looks up and _that’s_ his fatal mistake. Someone…something…sails down out of the dark night sky. It moves fast. _Fast_. So fast that Ariel can only stand there, fists falling, face an open mask of shock as Azramar’s blood splashes out over her in a wide arc.

The creature (?) moved in an instant – a lightning strike. It drove straight down like a falling star and sharply tore Azramar apart. A flashing slash of claws from the right side of Azramar’s neck straight down, curving – twisting. It was a straight up, perfectly calculated slaughter. No hesitation, no resistance. And…fangs? She’s sure she saw a glittering of them, as if the striking force used its mouth, its teeth – to taste and tear and Azramar’s snap is thunderous.

There was blood and carnage…no, butchery – for all of two minutes and then nothing. Azramar didn’t even have a chance to let out a death knell. Alive one moment – brutally smited the next. And his smited energy? It flows into the mouth of his attacker and his attacker…

Ariel’s eyes grow so wide as to hurt. What she’s seeing… _who_ she’s seeing…it-it can’t be…

“…Shane?”

His name comes out in the barest of whispers, close to inaudible. Yet the creature’s head rises. Burning red eyes meet hers and Ariel hears herself speak as if from very far away, “…M...Madej? Sh-Shane Madej?”

A slight head tilt, a recognition from who she’s talking to. And the more she looks at him, the more she’s sure. This _is_ Shane Madej. But as she’s never seen him. His skin is inky blue midnight, horns curved, spade-tipped tail swishing impatiently. His fangs are tinted with gore and there’s a slightly crunching sound – as if he managed to get some of Azramar’s bones stuck between his teeth and _ohhhh_ …

The thought makes her insides recoil even as she finds herself hesitantly steeping forward because, well, he just saved her and she knows him. She knows him. Her tongue feels thick, lips numb as she speaks, “Shane…it-it is you.”

She doesn’t make it a question, but it still comes out slightly unsure. His head tilts in the other direction and he seems to be truly contemplating her. As if puzzling her out, which is fitting as she’s doing the same. It’s Shane. She knows that. But how he looks now…how he’s acting and what he’s just done…

“Where’s Ryan?” Ariel isn’t sure why she asks, but she does. Shane blinks. A very prominent blink. His head dips, as if thinking, and then a slight shake. His large, leathery wings expand and he crouches, clawed hands digging at the earth before he rises up – flies away. Flees. Ariel looks up into the sky to watch him leave, but she can’t keep track of him. He leaves just as swiftly as he came.

She looks around her and lets out a hefty sigh. She lost her orb earlier, but she won’t lose her weapon. The orb will eventually dissipate, so she draws out another and uses it to find the weapon. Once found, she returns it to its ring form, slips it back into place. This is where it stays, this is where it belongs – this is what it is from now on.

She flexes and unflexes her hand, feeling the ring – the weight of it, the rightness of it. Then she draws out the beeper and signals Bill. It’s time to go home. To go home, but also to get some answers.

 

+

 

As she thought, Fatima is still watching over her house – Loretta to one side still doing her time displacement work. Bill deposits her and its clear the angel is happy to see her, to greet her, but Ariel has no time for it, immediately jumping to, “What was Shane doing there?!”

Fatima doesn’t even look surprised, “Shane-?”

“Madej, Fati! Shane Madej!" Ariel practically rips off the bracelet with the smited energy from her wrist as she shoves it into Fatima's hands, "I smited two of the demons, damn near died to the third when Shane came out of nowhere and took care of it! It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the one tearing through his cabal.”

There’s a telltale licking of lips from the angel who holds the bracelet close as Ariel’s head casts back and she moans, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“Ariel…” Fatima starts as she tucks the bracelet away but Ariel is undeterred.

“Is that why you wanted me to go out there? Huh?” Now that the whole ordeal is over, Ariel finds all her energy returning, feels it morphing into fury, “Was this some kind of test? Is that why you wouldn’t tell me which cabal and why-!”

“Ariel, sweetie, please…”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, Fatima!” her voice is loud and even with Loretta’s work, she wouldn’t be surprised if Ned can’t sleep through it, “This isn’t _us_! You’ve _never_ used me before! You’ve never-!”

Fatima looks beyond sad, helpless even as she waves a hand and Ariel finds her hunting gear dissolving – finds herself back in the same nighttime clothes she had on earlier and healed. She’s completely one hundred percent healed now, as Fatima avoids her gaze, “I…I didn’t use you. Not…not intentionally. It wasn’t like that…”

“Then what was it like?!”

The angel draws in a steady breath, closes her eyes, “You must believe me…I would never wish to be like my brethren. To use humans for my own ends…I find that repellent. It would be appalling for me to use my power, my will over others. To push them about like pieces on a board game…that’s not what I want. It’s why I joined PPS to begin with! Why I befriended you!”

“Then why-?!”

“ _Because_ of PPS,” Fatima urges, “Because of the _job_ , Ariel! I don’t run the organization. I am merely a part of it. I’m a part of it and I do as directed. Remember, my free will is finite. Practically nonexistent. I can only do so much. Whether by my father or my superiors – whether angelic or professional – I do as I am told because I am bound by my lack of independence.”

This gives Ariel pause because she understands that. She always has. It’s why so many angels fall, why so many demons are filled with fury – because it’s all so unjust. God made them first, but he made them with strings attached. Not like humans, not like her. Still, she can’t help but be angry, frustrated, “Fatima, I could have _died_.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” she promises, “I assure you. I was keeping track of you the entire time. You know I can do that. Any angel closely tied to a human can keep track of them, their every movement and that’s what I did with you. When you were with Kozdaan – when you were in that far up in the sky, I almost came, I almost did, but…”

She stops, gestures helplessly, and Ariel gives her a bitter grin, “You knew I’d get out of it myself?”

When she doesn’t answer, Ariel supplies the more likely answer, “Or you knew Shane would be there.”

The guilt that crosses the angel’s face tells the truth. Ariel sighs, “You…or better to say, PPS, banked on him showing up, didn’t they? He’s not just some rando doing a hatchet job on taking out his cabal. He _is_ through. They knew he’d find Azramar and take his energy, but they wanted someone he knew to be there because…what?” she shrugs, “They wanted to see what he would do?”

“…you knew Shane was a demon.”

The insulted burst of sound can’t be helped, “Of course I knew! I knew the minute I met him! But…”

Ariel walks in around in a tiny circle, remembers distinctly the first time they met, the first time she shook his hand and looked him in the eyes and _knew_ , “He didn’t seem a threat. He was…benign. Average. Low level. And then later, when him and Ryan hit it off, I just…? I couldn’t…?”

It’s hard to explain. That knowing. Not only that Shane was a demon, but the knowing when it came to him and Ryan. She wasn’t around them much, true. She spent far more time with the Try Guys then with other Buzzfeed people – but that didn’t mean she lived in a vacuum when it came to the company. She was Ned’s wife. He played a big role there, hired a lot of them – she knew them.

She knew Shane and Ryan in particular and had always found it a little funny, even – dare she say it – a little cute that the level one demon had become such good friends with a man who wanted to hunt ghosts. Who wanted to prove the supernatural existed. She hadn’t seen the harm. Shane clearly wasn’t out to corrupt Ryan (past the normal corruption of silly, goofball friendship) and he would never allow anything real to come out. If anything, he’d protect Ryan from the dangers of another world.

But now? Now she doesn’t know what to think and as she turns to Fatima, it’s as if the angel read her mind, “It’s as I said. The cabal uprising…it’s not your concern. Not really. It’s out of your hands, out of mine. It’s…” Fatima looks cagey, “It’s something that’s going on above _both_ our heads.”

This actually gives Ariel pause, “As in…your father’s?”

Fatima merely lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. Ariel can’t fathom that. God hasn’t been involved in earthly affairs for a long time. It’s one of the first things she learned when taking on the hunter profession. The creator did his job – he created, played a little, and then moved on. Moved on to where was a question, but not one too many gave thought to. After all, humanity was free and left to its own devices – what happened from here on out was in their hands.

Her own hands…

She looks at them thoughtfully. The idea that God was involved with something, with anything…with Ryan and Shane? Crazy…

Fatima carefully, cautiously, walks over to Ariel. She raises a hand and rests it on her shoulder, “Ariel - Shane Madej, his cabal, Ryan Bergara – they’re being handled.”

Another snort as Ariel looks up from her own hands, “Are they?”

Fatima pats her, “I know what you’re thinking, but you mustn’t interfere. You’ve done what was asked of you, all that was asked of you – whether explicitly stated or not,” her eyes direct back to Ariel’s house, “You have a life in there. Friends. Family. Ned and your child. That’s what you should focus on. What you should embrace.”

“And I should just leave Shane and Ryan up to fate?” Ariel looks at Fatima and without asking, asks how she can do that. How can she abandon people she thinks of as friends? How can she know what she knows and just…let fate play out? Because fate is more than just a cruel mistress, she’s a bitch beyond compare.

Yes, Ariel might have Ned and Wesley, she might have it good – but to think of people she cares for not having that. For them to be in distress…

“I...I’ll tell you what,” Fatima breaks through her worried thoughts, “I will watch over them.”

Ariel gives the angel an incredulous look but Fatima draws her hand away and looks resolute, “I will watch over them both. Grant them my protection.”

“Fatima…”

“I swear. On my wings and halo, on my father’s name.”

Ariel’s had a lot of surprises tonight, but this one actually makes her catch her breath. That’s not a simple vow to make. Not at all. It’s the kind of vow that ensures Fatima _will_ fall if Shane and Ryan do. Ariel swallows thickly, “You, ah, you don’t-“

“I do,” Fatima declares, “For what I put you through tonight, to keep you as my friend – I do.”

Another sigh and Ariel shakes her head, smiling, “Fati…you’ll always be my friend. Even when you piss me off.”

The angel laughs, delighted, and Ariel can’t help but give her a quick hug. Once the two break apart, Loretta stops her motions and there’s a soft whisper of wind. In the next instant – they’re all gone. Loretta, Bill, Fatima, and Nix. Ariel is back at her house, alone and safe and whole. She carefully, quietly, treads back inside.

She goes back to her bedroom and Ned is still there, sleeping soundly. She pulls back the comforter and climbs beneath it and feels that rush, that thrill, that always comes after a job well done. She turns to Ned and gently wakes him. He’s hums, looks at her with bleary eyes and she loves him so much her heart hurts.

She captures his mouth with hers, slides her tongue inside, and he lets out a confused but pleased hum. Lust throbs throughout her blood, body singing with desire as she begins to undress him, to make love to him. Maybe they’ll make another child tonight, maybe they won’t. But they’ll have their whole lives together and that’s all that matters to her.

Idly she wonders what matters to Shane.

He’d been so different when she’d first seem him. Alien. Foreign. As if someone else entirely.

But then she’d mentioned Ryan and she’d caught it….that glimmer of sadness.

What it could mean…her mind knows. As does her heart. It makes the connection easily, but she doesn’t linger on it long. As Fatima said – it’s truly none of her concern. Shane. Ryan. They’ll work it out. They’ll find their own answers, their own happiness, as she’s found hers.

 _That_ is something she can vow.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This surprisingly took far longer to write than I would have liked. But I wanted to get this out before focusing on the next chapter of Skeptic and then life happened. Hopefully this is a good tide over.
> 
> 2) I might've fucked up on the geography of the forests, so, sorry about that - I did my best research-wise. 
> 
> 3) I feel like I should apologize for to Zach for implying he's into tentacle stuff...


End file.
